Chapter Sixty Eight

Chapter 68

The frigid water clung to Jemima's skin, the icy tendrils of the river sapping what little energy she had left. Her breaths came in short gasps, her body trembling violently as she tried to crawl up the rocky shore. Each movement sent jolts of pain through her injured arm, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to falter.

Behind her, Jay dragged a half-conscious Marcus whose face was taut with exhaustion while Jay's jaw was set in determination.

"Hold on, Marcus," Jay grunted as he hauled him up onto the ground. Marcus groaned but didn't speak, his usually sharp eyes dulled by exhaustion and pain. Marcus closed his eyes momentarily, wanting the chilly breeze to calm his frayed nerves.

Jemima collapsed onto the cold ground, her chest heaving. The distant sound of gunfire and shouting had faded, replaced by the eerie stillness of the night. The docks were far behind them, but the danger wasn't.

"We can't stay here," Jay said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands as he wrung water from his clothes. He crouched beside Jemima, inspecting her arm. "You're losing too much blood."

"I'll survive," Jemima muttered, swatting his hand away. "We have to keep moving. They'll send someone after us."

"Stop being so stubborn and listen to me for once, just once! Can't you see you're dying?" Jay snapped, taking Jemima by surprise. Marcus opened his eyes to view the couple but his face remained expressionless.

Marcus was used to this sort of banter between the two of them. Jemima was his twin and Jay was his friend. Over time, he had learned not to interfere. He returned to closing his eyes and tried to shut them out.

"You don't get it!" Jemima yelled back, hot tears brimming from the corner of her eyes.

"I do..."

"No! You don't!" Jemima cut him off. "Do you know what it feels like to feel helpless all the time? Do you know what it is to feel like there's this constant memory lapse... like there's this gap and void that just can't be filled? I don't need you to constantly be in my face. When I tell you I can handle a situation, trust that I can and..."

Jemima broke off, breaking down in tears.

"Jem," Jay's voice softened, but the edge of frustration was unmistakable. He walked up to her and closed the gap between them by engulfing her in an embrace. He held her close, neither of them saying anything. He just allowed her to wail in his arms. The soft swoosh of the ocean was the only sound heard and it mixed with her soft wails to create a cacophony of sounds.

"Baby girl, you can't keep doing this—pushing yourself until you break. Let me help."

She looked up to stare into his grey eyes, her eyes blazing with a quiet defiance. "If I stop now, we lose everything. Do you get that? Alan will disappear, and we'll never find him—or Jon. They'll win and I'll never get answers."

Jay exhaled sharply, his concern evident, but he didn't argue. He knew better than to try to stop her when she was like this. Instead, he turned to Marcus, whose breathing had grown shallow.

"Marcus, can you hear me?" Jay asked, shaking his shoulder.

Marcus blinked sluggishly, his lips curling into a weak smirk. "Barely... but I'm not dead yet."

"Are you okay Marcus?" Jemima finally asked, breaking off of Jay's hold to kneel beside him.

"Yeah." Was Marcus's curt response.

"Close enough," Jay muttered. He turned back to Jemima. "We need a safe house. Somewhere nearby to regroup and patch you both up."

Jemima pushed herself upright, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to topple her. "There's an old safe house near the industrial park. It's not far from here."

Jay nodded, hauling Marcus to his feet. "Lead the way."

With trembling hands, Jemima pulled her phone from her soaked jacket. The screen flickered, cracked but functional. She sent a quick message to Diane, her fingers clumsy from the cold: "Escaped. Heading to Safehouse Beta. Will update."

The reply came almost instantly: "Stay safe. Reinforcements en route."

Jemima snorted softly. Reinforcements were great, but they were always a step too late.

At the safe house, Diane paced relentlessly, her anxiety manifesting in sharp, clipped movements. The small living room was dimly lit, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Damien watched her from his seat, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

"They're resourceful," he said finally, breaking the silence. "They'll make it out."

Diane whirled on him, her expression livid. "Resourceful? Jemima is smart and ruthless! If she ever finds out what you did to her, she'll forget that we're ever parents and kill us!" Diane wheezed, her anxiety rising to the surface.

"We've done plenty," Damien shot back, his tone icy. "Or have you forgotten that this entire mess started because of your brilliant idea to sell Jem in the first place?"

Diane flinched, the accusation hitting its mark. "You think I don't know that? You think I haven't replayed that decision a thousand times in my head?"

"Then stop pacing and start thinking," Damien snapped. "Because if Ava and Alan's involvement comes to light, we'll have bigger problems than a few bruises and bullet wounds."

The safe house Jemima had mentioned was little more than a dilapidated cabin on the outskirts of the industrial park. The windows were boarded up, the door barely hanging on its hinges, but it would do.

Jay kicked open the door, his gun drawn, scanning the room for threats. Finding none, he motioned for Jemima and Marcus to follow.

"Lay him down on the couch," Jemima instructed, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.

Jay lowered Marcus onto the threadbare cushions, wincing as the younger man groaned in pain. "We need supplies," he said, glancing around the dusty space.

"There's a first-aid kit in the kitchen," Jemima said, already heading in that direction.

Jay watched her go, his chest tightening with worry. She was running on fumes, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she collapsed.

"Jem," he called after her, his voice soft. "You're not invincible."

She paused in the doorway, her shoulders stiffening. "I don't have to be," she replied without looking back. "I just have to survive."

***

Meanwhile, Alan sat in a darkened room, the glow of his cigarette the only source of light. His scarred associate stood by the window, watching the streets below.

"They've gone to ground," the scarred man said.

Alan smirked. "Good. Let them rest. They'll think they're safe, and that's when we'll strike."

"And if they figure out the truth?"

Alan's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with malice. "Then we'll have a front-row seat to their little family drama. Either way, we win."

Back at the safe house, Jemima and Jay worked silently, tending to Marcus's injuries. The tension between them was palpable, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

"You're going to scar," Jay said, his voice low as he wrapped Jemima's arm.

She snorted. "Add it to the collection."

Jay's hand stilled, his eyes meeting hers. "This isn't a game, Jem. You can't keep throwing yourself into danger like this."

"And what do you expect me to do?" she snapped. "Sit back and wait for someone else to fix things? That's not who I am."

Jay's jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, it's not. But it doesn't mean you have to do it alone."

For a moment, Jemima's mask slipped, vulnerability flashing in her eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by her usual defiance.

"I can handle it," she said, her voice quieter now.

Jay didn't argue. He knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't listen, no matter how much he wanted her to.

As the hours ticked by, the safe house grew quieter. Marcus was resting, his breathing steady, while Jemima and Jay kept watch.

Jemima stared out the window, her mind racing with plans and contingencies. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were running out of time.

"What's on your mind?" Jay asked, breaking the silence.

"Alan," she admitted. "He's always one step ahead. It's like he knows what we're going to do before we do it."

Jay hesitated before speaking. "You think there's a mole?"

Jemima's jaw clenched. "It wouldn't be the first time."

***

Alan leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watched the tracker on his laptop. Jemima's phone was still active, pinging its location to him every few minutes.

"They think they're safe," he murmured.

The scarred man chuckled. "Not for long."

Alan took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "Let's give them a little surprise, shall we?"

***

Back at the safe house, Jemima's phone buzzed with an incoming message. She frowned, picking it up. The number was unrecognized, but the message was clear:

“Run.”

Her heart skipped a beat as the sound of approaching engines filled the air.

"Jay," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We've been found."